Screaming at the Stars
by Francesca Zatnik
Summary: G1 T:LV A look into the troubled lives and minds of the Seeker Elites, following an argument and an ill-fated bet...  incomplete and inactive
1. Vunerability

**Chapter 1 – Vulnerability**

Warning: Contains some coarse language.

Disclaimer: If it exists, I probably don't own it. Hasbro and other own transformers and related characters.

_**T-00.10 /Decepticon Undersea Head Quarters, Lower Level**_

Megatron replied to his second's interruption, but he wasn't about to dignify him with anything more than that. As it was, all but his mouth seemed to ignore the seeker entirely.

"Do you really _enjoy_ testing my patience, Starscream?"

"But Megatron---!"

The leader's mouth curved upwards at the corners, ever so slightly - condescendingly, infuriatingly, - and the great silver mech continued speaking, changing neither pitch nor pace.

"Normally, I would be quite happy to oblige you. Currently, however, I have neither the time nor the inclination to point-" or beat, "-the many, many flaws out of whatever absurd scheme you have pulled from the confused circuitry you use for a cerebral processor."

Soundwave had no need of his 'telepathic' networking capabilities to sense the waves of anger emanating from Starscream - or the idle amusement from Megatron - but despite any appearance to the contrary, there really was work to be done... And it wouldn't _get_ done whilst the Deception leader was putting on a show to taunt his second.

"Megatron is currently occupied." Soundwaves distorted, synthetic voice was somehow melodious. "Conclusion; Starscream will be leaving now."

The red seeker wasn't really ready to comply, but there didn't seem to be all that many options. A growl of frustration was all that escaped his vocal synthesizer as, for once,he managed some semblance of self control. That, or he just couldn't think of a retort. Either way, he turned and stalked out of the room. Soundwave's optics brightened slightly as he tapped unobtrusively into Starscream's mind.

_It wasn't fair. He was second, not Soundwave - and yet Megatron was letting that slagging tape-junker give him orders! They would learn._

Somewhere deep under the anger, at the base of his emotional data stack, was a root node that the jets subconscious processors had gone to a great deal of effort to nullify any connecting object references... And yet never quite finished the job.

It was hurt.

Vulnerability.

Starscream was the same as always. Soundwave broke contact before the seeker moved out of range.

"Starscream - under control. Confrontation averted."

Megatron felt a quick stab of irritation. He pushed it aside and laughed.

"You're always spoiling my fun, Soundwave," he said, half seriously.

The blue robot / tape deck fixed his leader with an unreadable stare for several seconds before he replied.

"Yes, Megatron."

_**T-00.05 /Decepticon Undersea Head Quarters, Outside**_

True to his name, the red seeker was screaming at the stars.

He wanted to slam his fist into a wall - since Megatron's mainframe was denied him.

He wanted to open the sensory network in his hands to its maximum capacity - to the level he used for manipulating fine circuitry - and see how far the hatred could stand up against the pain of his buckling, warping metal... Since Megatron's was denied him.

He didn't do it.

It wasn't that he was afraid to - the thought took on a double meaning - in fact he'd done it before. A number of times. That was the problem. There were only so many times you could pass it off as getting your hand "caught in an ore crusher" - "a smelter," (that one had been interesting,) - "an energon compactor" (they didn't have one) - "Stepped on by an Autobot" (As though _that_ would happen to _him_) - or, "It was like this when I came out of recharge."

The Constructicons would share a look.

He knew they were hiding smiles, but they never actually said anything. He _was_ second in command after all: Even if his influence was a little sporadic at times. Soundwave, curse him, wouldn't be worried about that. _He just... he... well... he says nothing!_ Once, just once, he had _sighed_. It was possibly the most expressive noise he had ever heard the smaller robot utter. It sounded... _weird_. He had barely visited the repair bay since. Fixing himself was safer, anyway... but rewiring one's own hand was a difficult task.

Jets totally disengaged, Starscream jumped barely a meter and a half into the air before transforming so fast that hinge stress warnings flashed before his optics. Thrusters blaring from inactive to full power, his tailfin came within millimetres of the launch platform before the jet began to gain any altitude. _That_ was _precision_.

He rose relatively slowly at first, but soon reached speeds nearly to rival those that Thundercracker used to crank out the higher decibels. Anyone watching him upside-down might worry that he was in a nose dive - totally out of control.

Except, of course, that nobody would worry for Starscream.

He levelled out in the upper atmosphere. Even his wingmates - Skywarp and Thunder - probably wouldn't have much to say if he came to a nasty demise. Possibly "Thank Primus". That hadn't always been the case, but obviously time and circumstance shifted loyalties like giant magnets did memories.

He headed into a nosedive, far faster than any true plane had ever moved, pondering in self-pity the pros and cons of extinguishing his spark with a high velocity impact when suddenly --

_**T-00.04 /Decepticon Undersea Head Quarters, Upper Level**_

"You know, I preferred sentry duty when it actually involved making sentry flights," stated Skywarp.

"_Riiight_ -- you still complained."

"Hah! Says you! Anyway, this whole 'Vis-ual Mon-iter-ing" system seems like a load of cows to me!"

"The term's 'shit', 'Warp. Stop pretending to be human and say something intelligent-"

"Hah, humans! You're one to talk about 'pretending to be human.' Fleshlings say shit, I say _cows_ -- and _you_ love fleshlings. Flesh-ling-o-phile! Humophile!"

"Uhuh... Have you been downloading vocab files again, by any chance-"

"-at least they aren't _fleshling_ related and-" his next words were drowned out as Thunder talked over them.

"-you know they only help if you know what the words _mean_?"

"-pulpy vert-eb-rate." Finished Skywarp.

Thundercracker fixed him with a stare. He tried to make it angry. "Right, you-"

"Hey! Check out Screamer!"

"-changing the subject-"

"-stream 2740a! Two 'cubes sez 'e levels out within 50 feet of impact!"

"Uhuh, no way. Last time he did this, he... shit, you're on..."

The optics of both jets dimmed somewhat as they focused fully on the internally streaming video. Starscream had just passed the point where he would normally start to pull up... And normally he left it to the last moment.

_**T-00.01 /Decepticon Undersea Head Quarters, Outside, Near the Ground**_

Starscream was screaming again, but this time it was for an entirely different reason. His engines had cut out - not totally surprising - but this wasn't the whole of the problem. His flaps were not responding. _Nothing_ was. (Maybe going to the repair bay ever now and then wasn't such a bad idea after all - normally he checked everything thoroughly himself - why hadn't he done it this time?) He was traveling too fast even to try forcing a transformation, for what little speed that might take off his fall.

Suddenly he was quite, quite certain that he didn't want to be dead. That was the conclusion to which he always came when skydiving, sooner or later, but this time the reasons were different. Normally it was a matter of "_It would be far too convenient for all those other bastards,_" but this time it was more a matter of "_Oh, fuck-! I'm gonna die and there won't be much left!_"

Not that the latter was all that uncommon for Starscream, when it came down to it, but this time he had no-one to beg for mercy.

It was all over in an instant.


	2. Thinking and Acting

**Chapter 2 - Thinking and Acting**

_**T18.00 **__**/Decepticon Undersea Head Quarters, Upper Level**_

_Eighteen hours later, _Thundercracker wished that Skywarp were here. He even wished that _Starscream_ were here. _Not, _he admitted, _that the egotistical air-commander would be all that much help – but at least if we survived I'd be certain of an effective scapegoat to give Megatron._

He considered his wingmates.

Warp was a mechanoid who would _act._ If you put him in this situation you could just about guarantee that he would do something. Granted, there was a high probability that that something would be monumentally stupid – but at least it would be something to work with.

Starscream, on the other hand, could either think _or_ act. With him it was always either one or the other, but never both: Not competently, anyway. Thunder could easily see why his leader assessed the red seeker as he did. Screamer was a _disappointment_.

Thundercracker wished for either one of them as currently, he himself could neither think _nor_ act. Unfortunately, the situation in which he found himself required both.

"Uh…?" he said, staring at the wisps of rising smoke.

_**T17.97 **__**/Decepticon Undersea Head Quarters, Upper Level**_

_About thirty seconds earlier, _the blue seeker had been impatiently enduring the last five minutes of his extended sentry shift. Since he was now the only qualified seeker on the planet – and whatever some mechs would tell you, Thrust, Ramjet, and… the other one… didn't count - he was pulling his third consecutive shift.

Holding all of the surveillance and satellite feeds in his processors at once was mentally taxing – a task normally shared between two. Thundercracker was of reasonable intelligence –above average for a designated warrior – but his processors, forged in accordance with his primary functions (fighting and flying), didn't take well to this sort of work over prolonged periods of time. Not without eating up a lot of power, in any case. For him, the delayed recharge cycle couldn't come soon enough.

He allowed himself to enjoy the sense of smug satisfaction that came from managing to hold out. _The others couldn't have done it_ – and this was taking the realistic view- _they had the combined attention span of a_… He couldn't think of anything comparable. Thunder pulled himself out of the indulgent thought patternsThey could get to be a bad habit, if he wasn't careful. _Even if they are true._

Several hours ago he had been forced to lower nearly all of his own external sensors in order to maintain the link with those of the base:so he was understandably surprised when the console directly in front of him suddenly exploded. Battle circuitry surged into action. It was almost a relief. A fraction of a second later he was on his feet, both lasers aimed for maximum coverage – but charging at only a fraction of their usual rate and capacity.

The room was empty.

_Could I have imagined it? _The smoldering comms panel – former location of the "Emergency Alert! (_Don't let Warp touch this! –-Soundwave_)" button – testified otherwise.

He'd thought it had been caused by laser fire - it _looked_ as though it had been caused by laser fire - but the room was empty and it was impossible, without going through him first, to get a shot at it from _outside_ the room… The _empty_ room. Energon deficient processors worked sluggishly at the problem, and hoped they were wrong.

"Uh…?" he said, staring at the wisps of rising smoke.

A cold pressure on his neck spoke – both figuratively and literally – in unfortunate confirmation.

"Figured it out yet have you, Deceptislow?"

Thundercracker's lasers were too low on power to fire effectively, and even if they had not been, he wasn't entirely certain of the speaker's exact location. He opted for a more conventional attack: The unseen aggressor was obviously unharmed however, as the seekers fist met with no resistance until it slammed into the wall.

"Your insults haven't gotten any better-"

The pressure, momentarily displaced, reappeared on the other side. It was now against the back of his neck.

"Now, now… Just because _you_ can't think of any."

The jet moved to make another swipe at the elusive presence, but it merely moved back to its original position.

"Actually," it said, "they seem to be doing their job rather well."

Thunder disliked the sensation of being toyed with and met the comment with a growl.

"Surrender?" the voice mocked.

A look of pure, circuit-frying hatred pervaded the seeker's face plate. His fists tightened.

"You make it harder for only yourself, not for me…"

"You joined the wrong side, Mirage, you bastard." _I'll kill him, if I get the chance…_

"Very well… Don't let anyone say I didn't give you a choice."

The pressure was suddenly sharp – intrusive – a needle, maybe. Thundercracker fired both partially charged lasers just as they were ripped from his arms. The charge fed back through his circuitry and he reeled with the unexpected pain.

"You'd be… A natural Decepticon, Autobot."

A moment later the room shimmered and several of the enemy – the Autobots – were revealed, though the one who had attacked him – Mirage – was still unseen. It made little difference as he found himself restrained, arms against the great flat sheets of his wings.

"That was _unbelievably_ easy," said Mirage.

"Not surprising, really." A green mech spoke. Hound: That was his name. He made holograms. It must have been him who had kept the other Autobots hidden. "He's virtually out of power – pretty weak energy signature… Surprising he put up as much of a fight as he did, really."

"Yeah, an' he ruined my paint job," added Sunstreaker, who had been grazed by the Decepticon's ineffective laser-fire.

Said Decepticon put up some equally ineffective struggling. It seemed his luck – if he'd ever had any – had run dry. Maybe permanently.

_**T18.04 **__**/Decepticon Undersea Head Quarters, Upper Level**_

Luck, however, was not so far away after all… It was in the corridor outside, to be precise.

It had taken the form of Soundwave who, unlike Thundercracker, had no need of a comms panel or any other external appliance to raise the alarms throughout the complex. Klaxons and lights blared the base over. If the sentry's relief would have been welcome _before_ the Autobots had shown up then now it was doubly so… Or would have been if Thunder were still conscious.

The offline Decepticon was dropped unceremoniously to the floor as his captors took up battle positions.

"Ravage, Rumble, Frenzy: Eject. Operation: Combat." Soundwave pushed his eject button as he spoke and the three aforementioned cassettes flew out and transformed. However the tape deck and his cassettes wouldn't be able to hold off an entire Autobot strike-force for long. The battle could go only one way, as things were, and the only other active and battle-capable mechanoid in the entire base was Megatron himself.

Others might have hesitated to contact him, fearing his temper – but not Soundwave.

//_Alert, Megatron! Autobot intrusion!_// Megatron received//_Forces outnumbered. Combatants: Myself and accessories (batteries not included.) Suggest Operation CleanSweep and retreat. Location: sentry corridor, 541._//

The leader rarely ignored Soundwave, and decided that now was not a good time to start. He immediately pressed the Big Red Button and stepped into the elevator shaft, firing his jets. The vertical corridor was so much more _efficient_ than the box on pulleys had been, but he'd had the thing kept hoisted to the roof just in case it was needed – like it had been last night.

Before too long he had reached the battle. Transformed into a gun that was larger than the average cannon, Megatron was still somewhat larger than Soundwave could comfortably handle. With time and persistence the two managed to blow their way through enough walls and robots to get themselves and the cassettes out of the former haven with the dead weight of the unfortunate – and unconscious – seeker supported between them

If the Autobots wondered at the risk to which the two went to rescue their fellow Decepticon, Megatron mused, the answer should have been obvious. Firstly, whatever else they might be, the seekers were valuable machines. True, they were sometimes more trouble than he was _entirely_ certain they were worth – but he refused to lose _all three _of the elite force in fewer than twenty hours. Secondly, it was Thundercracker. For a seeker, he was blessedly _normal…_ Actually managed to follow out orders, every now and then. Thirdly – and the reason the Autobots were most likely to think of - was that Megatron would _never _allow one of his followers to get away with _failing._


	3. Claustrophobia

**Chapter 3 - Claustrophobia**

Warning: Contains some coarse language.

Disclaimer: If it exists, I probably don't own it. Hasbro and other own transformers and related characters.

Author's pre-chapter note:

One five hour reflux later and I'm ready to start with typing this chapter up. Not sure how long the typing will take, but probably from about now till I post it.

_**T21.00 **__**/Decepticon Auxiliary Base**_

"Hrm," Megatron's facial expression changed abruptly. Things were not going exactly as expected from what appeared to be a simple case of energy-exhaustion. Something else was going on. "Perhaps you did not miscalculate after all, Soundwave. Proceed."

The unreadable blue mech stepped forward, a vibrant glowing vial of analytical/medical grade energon held delicately in his large metal hands, along with a needle that was large even by giant robot standards. He pushed the point through the vials flexible diaphragm and drew up the bright fluid as the Decepticon leader turned Thundercracker onto his front with a motion that was rather surprisingly gentle.

Soundwave moved to inject the needle into the soft silicon membrane where the offline Seekers head met with his neck. He paused. Somebody had beaten him to it if puncture marks were anything to go by.

"Megatron -- has Thundercracker had any other treatment today?" His leader looked up in surprise, and it was all the answer that Soundwave needed. "An unknown substance has been introduced to his systems. Without further diagnostics the effects of a direct energy injection are _unknown_."

"Will it wake him up?"

"Affirmative. Duration _unknown_, coherency _unknown_, other side effects _unknown_."

Megatron considered this, "He could have information. Possibly something we need to know about sooner rather than later. You say we cannot download his recent memory from his data banks?"

"Correct."

"Then continue."

_**T21.00 /Captured Decepticon Undersea HQ, Upper Level**_

The Autobots could hear it five stories up. It was a sort of screeching across a range of frequencies and although it wasn't very loud, it was insistent.

Sunstreaker lifted a hand to his receptor, the movement echoed by his slightly dissimilar twin Sideswipe, on the other side of the room.

"What _is _that? You don't s'pose the decepticons've left us behind any nasty surprises?"

"Almost certainly," replied Mirage, who was over by a wall terminal, "but I don't think that this is one of them."

"Not unless they wanted to _annoy_ us to death," Sideswipe muttered with a sideward glance at his brother, who was too busy with his covert appraisal of his marred paint work to actually notice.

"So what do you think it could be, Mirage?" Hound rubbed his chin thoughtfully and received an irritable reply.

"I don't know, _obviously._ You're the tracker, why don't you go and find out? And take Vanity and Loudmouth along with you," he sighed, "the entire database has been wiped. If I'm going to get any intell out of it at all I have to do it now. If you would all leave and let me concentrate, I'd appreciate it."

Hound harrumphed quietly.

"Remember what Prime said about 'sticking together'?" he asked, but when Mirage just ignored him he threw up his hands and exited the room. That noise could get on anyone's nerves.

A moment later the twins followed.

_Finally_, thought Mirage. He considered the recent battle whilst continuing his work. The Autobots had taken the base. _So much for Decepticon superiority in combat._ Thinking about it, though, the only real resistance they had met had come by way of a tape-recorder and its cassettes. That these had managed to fight the attackers off for nearly an hour before getting not only themselves out, but also the Autobots unconscious prisoner, was actually rather pathetic. Then again, Soundwave _had_ been holding a fusion gun powered by a subspace link to the singularity of a black hole... A fusion gun who also went by the name of _Megatron_...

All in all, he decided, and regardless of the specifics, it was a victory - and one they sorely needed.

Also, if playing soldier and hacking their system didn't _quite _count as a holiday -- he didn't enjoy combat and would rather be back on Cybertron, any day -- then at least it was better than being back at the Ark, playing chess with Teletraan-1.

He shuddered. _Anything_ was better than that!

_**T21.00 /Captured Decepticon HQ, Lower Level**_

Elsewhere on the captured Decepticon base, another mech was making a good case of proving Mirage wrong, whilst Hound led the twins unerringly towards the source of the transmission.

Sideswipes jetpack had allowed the trio to make short work of getting the elevator system back in working order -- having at least one of them able to fly in a complex heavily renovated to the tastes of the sentient air-craft who had till so recently inhabited it was coming in handy -- and they arrived at the floor from which the transmission seemed to be originating.

Stepping out of the elevator, Hound pointed.

"It's coming from in there."

_**T20.90 /Somewhere**_

He had, inevitably, come back on-line. _Primus, _but he _hurt._ Damage reports had piled up so high that he ignored the lot, summarizing his status as '_really, really screwed over,' _And in pain.

With an effort he managed to dull his perceptions slightly, but as damaged as he must be he would need to implement a manual sensory over-ride in order to be anything like comfortable. He attempted to do so.

His arm wouldn't move. Something was holding it down. _That wasn't good _-- he didn't like that. He tried to move the other one, _it's stuck too._ The agonized robot was starting to feel the first threads of panic. Even his leg, the one he could feel, _even his head!_

_Trapped, can't move, stuck to the ground, alone in the dark--_

He could handle the pain. Pain was nothing - an occupational certainty - but this all-consuming panic was another thing entirely...

_--Stranded in the cold, alone, forever, _again.


	4. Insensibility

**Chapter 4 – Insensibility**

Warning: Contains some coarse language.

Disclaimer: If it exists, I probably don't own it. Hasbro and other own transformers and related characters.

Author's pre-chapter note:

This chapter was originally called 'Hunters and Seekers'

_**Note, this chapter has NOT been edited**__ – so any mistakes are mine alone. (You can blame Starscream for it, though. Everyone else does. At the time I post this, chapter one has been edited.)_

_**T21.20: Captured Decepticon HQ, Lower Level**_

The twins ran forward, eager to put an end to the awful transmission. They paused upon reading the Cybertronian symbols emblazoned upon the blast doors at which Hound had pointed.

"It's just a _repair_ bay…" said one,

"A _Decepticon _repair bay," the other corrected the first.

Exchanging glances, the brothers moved as one to open the door. _This was a curiosity… There were stories_… With the doors opened, the transmission increased tenfold. Obviously the repair bay had been shielded. Standing a little way behind the twins, Hound's more sensitive receptors were causing him trouble. He tried to cover them with his hands, but it didn't help.

"You two… go explore… I'm staying here."

Sunstreaker nodded and his brother's tightened slightly, widening at the corners as the twin Lamborghinis stepped through and closed the door. Hounds sighed with a mixture of relief that the shields had reasserted themselves, and concern that Sunny and Sides would be… well… Sunny and Sides. On the other side of the door, he was fairly certain, they were grinning.

_**T21.22: Captured Decepticon HQ, Lower Level, Repair Bay**_

The source of the noise was not immediately apparent, but they were obviously close if the relative strength of the signal was anything to go by. It seemed to fill the air. The sooner they stopped it, the happier they would be.

The Decepticon repair bay was similar in many ways to the on back at the Autobot's base. There were more work stations than back at the Ark, however, suggesting that this one wasn't as understaffed. A number of doors – some of them open to reveal utilitarian berthings – attested to the greater importance that was placed in personal privacy within Decepticon society.

"I can't see anything in here," said Sideswipe, "I'm gonna check the rooms on the right. You can take the left. I don't want it."

Sunny flashed his optics. "Yeah… Whatever 'Sides."

_**T21.23: Decepticon Auxiliary Base**_

Thundercracker's optics activated automatically, flooding his processors with information that if senseless, was at least colorful. Something dark loomed across his vision, blocking some of the light. His lenses clicked and whirred behind the optic shields and they tried, and failed, to achieve focus. The noises he was hearing added a further surreal quality to the disorientating play of light that all but filled his vision.

From his experiences in the past he quickly extrapolated a logical, if incorrect, explanation for the condition in which he found himself to be.

"Sks… Sk'wp…" was the noise he managed to evict, with an effort. The sound was part way between a slur and a stutter. It sounded odd when combined with the Seeker's gravelly voice. "'Warp… Y'idjt… Waa'sleg j-ja pu'na en'jon?" _What the slag did you put in my energon?_

The shadow moved away, but if it passed within Thundercracker's focal field, then the blue F15 didn't catch it through the electronic noise and random patches of colour that were interfering with his sight.

"Forced re-energisation; _complete_. Subject consciousness is _achieved_." Soundwave's unique speech pattern was easily identifiable, even to a mech as chemically confused as Thunder was at the moment.

"S-sh'v?" Was as close as he came to stuttering out the other mechs name, "z'ne, kay? Ngeni."

Soundwave looked at his patient with his usual unreadable look, although nobody could see it since his leader was behind him and the condition of the patient himself, to put it bluntly, would have shamed a _surrealist_. There was nobody else in the room and not that many more on the rest of the base either. The majority of their forces were still out on the mission.

Megatron took a few steps forward.

"Excellent, you're awake, Thundercracker,"

The Seeker's optics whirred again as he finally managed an approximate focus.

"Now tell me; _how did the Autobots get past you into the base_?" Megatron's red optics blazed fiercely through the haze of his follower's vision, setting off a series of worried twitches throughout his body. The leader's voice dropped, "you should have seen them coming through the sensory arrays."

The Seeker worked his mouth wordlessly for a moment and eventually managed to get a response from his vocal processors. The sound that came out, however, was sp garbled that Megatron could not even be certain which _language_ was being spoken, never mind understand what was being said. The leader threw his communications officer a meaningful glance, and the smaller mech threw up a precautionary mental barrier before connecting, a little reluctantly, to the blue Seeker's mind – not so much because the connection would be difficult, but he had learnt to be cautious of Seeker minds when once, millions of years ago, he had found one who honestly believed it was Primus, the Cybertronian deity. As far as Seekers went, Thundercracker wasn't all that bad… _But then again_, thought Soundwave, _he usually isn't drugged out of his mind, either._

"Subject believes that you think he is Starscream."

The corner of Megatron's mouth quirked.

"Then I can see why he would be _concerned_."

"Thought occurs that he should beg for mercy – rejected on the basis that this would not aid in dissuading you of the notion."

"On that point, at least, his logic is easy to follow," said Megatron. _Although the rest is certainly… odd, _he thought, _never mind._

One good thing about having such a large portion of his troops as being the same model is that he had become quite adept at dealing with them, even in unusual circumstances.

As sentient beings, it was true that the Seeker's developed distinct – and often dysfunctional – personalities over time, but certain parts of their fundamental programming remained consistent to their original design, which had been militaristic from the beginning – right from the moment that it occurred some forgotten Quintessan that building easily controlled, flight capable 'police' was a fun way of keeping its other creations in line.

Quintessan manipulation of the early Seekers' personality protocols was sometimes cited as the cause the often erratic behaviour of those around today, and although the modern Seekers were bound to be different in many ways to the originals, Megatron could see the logic in the argument. Or most of it, in any case. It seemed more likely that the present instabilities were not caused by the Quints, but rather by the early Cybertronians, who - if the Decepticon leaders knowledge of the behaviour of most sentient beings, and what he could piece together of his race's history was any indication, - would have been paranoid enough in their now ground freedom to keep building the Seekers as a defense against Quintessan retribution, and angry enough about the actions of their former enslavers that they would, with good intentions, ultimately cause the inherent insanity of new Seekers to date, in an attempt to remove some of the restrictive personality programming put in place by the Quints.

That was his theory, anyway, and whether it was right or not, the fact remained that a simple, direct order, spoken with authority, would get results from any Seeker in a poor enough condition (achieved by whatever means,) that its personality component would do little to interfere with the base function.

"Thundercracker – _report!_" Barked Megatron.

As he expected, Thundercracker's optics first brightened, then dimmed, as deep within his processors the Voice of Command was recognised and the order to report acknowledged. Triggered from within the protected core of his mind, where the chaos was less apparent, were procedures that would blaze away some, at least, of the confusion reigning everywhere else. Process priorities altered in favor of communication and data retrieval, sending those he would otherwise have used to asses and act on any occurrences himself, - like abstract thought and the deciphering of the confusing imagery sent to him by his optics, - took the proverbial back seat – along with many of the protective measures working to prevent damage to his data banks and logic centers.

Soundwave shifted slightly; a motion that whispered of a mild relief. The link may not be difficult for him to maintain, but that didn't necessarily mean he _enjoyed_ listening to all the illogical crap that had been coming across it. The relative calm of the moment was a welcome and useful change.

Thundercracker finally found his voice.

"Mrh-m... Mir-Mirage. W's cloaked. An' th'others…Nothin' on'th sensors…"

As the Seeker related the story, Soundwave recorded the memories from across the link and onto one of the Casseticons, collecting the data as Thundercracker accessed it. With this information he would be able to provide Megatron with a much clearer rendition of the events related than the one presently being related. It was true that the Seeker's coherency showed a dramatic improvement from what it had been a few minutes ago but this wasn't really saying much.

Thunder' trailed off over the end of the report. With the command fulfilled, and the extra stress caused by fulfilling it, his mind headed for an emergency shutdown. He fought it off for a moment longer.

…_A worrying thought…_

"Wh-what… Sky… warp?"

…_what happened?..._

Soundwave glanced at his leader, who nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Operation Cleansweep," began Soundwave, his voice sounding… odd. More odd than usual. "The operation deletes everything from the base mainframe -"

Megatron finished for him, "-including medical data used by the life support systems."

… _I'm sorry…_

This time it was Thundercracker hearing Soundwave… and right then he didn't care what the other thought. He stopped fighting the dark.


	5. Hunters

**Chapter 5 – Hunters-**

Warning: Contains some coarse language.

Disclaimer: If it exists, I probably don't own it. Hasbro _et al_. own transformers and related characters.

Author's pre-chapter note:

_Hey! Guess what, peeps? My old computer died and so I lost the latest version! ...So expect poor Engrish and terrible flow, because this's the only copy I have of now! (Unless I go through the hours of torture involved in reviving my computer for a few minutes.) This is still not all that I had planned for this chapter, but I'm breaking it into (yet more) chunks in the hope that I may eventually get some of it out!_

_The section of this chapter commencing at T21.24 (i.e., first three paragraphs,) was originally included in the chapter four post, but in-fact belongs here, in chapter 5. I warn you so you don't have to read it… But I haven't updated in so long it may be worth your time, regardless._

_**Note, this chapter has NOT been edited**__ – So blame Starscream for any errors herein. At the time I post this, chapters one and two have been edited._

_**T21.24: Captured Decepticon HQ, Lower Level, Repair Bay**_

Sideswipe had checked several of the side rooms but still hadn't found anything particularly interesting. Some of the cubicles were outfitted for intensive care, and others showed the small, personal signs of frequent occupation by the same person – Though it was difficult to tell whether they were occupied by medical staff or by repeat patients. The Decepticons were bound to have their own version of Ironhide – or to be honest, himself – who spent more time _in_ the repair bay than out of it.

As he opened the door to the next room, motion sensors picked up his entry and the bright, energy efficient fluorescent tubes flickered on the ceiling. This room, although several times larger than any of the others he had seen, had even less space. All horizontal surfaces – and indeed some of the vertical ones – were so packed with space and broken parts, emergency equipment and other generally unidentifiable medical 'stuff,' that it was hard to make out any one object individually. It was possible, the Autobot supposed, that there was some sort of an incredibly sophisticated system by which all of this was organized – but it was utterly invisible to the un-programmed optic. For that matter, if this place was anything like the Ark, then the system had probably been so abused by whatever ignorant, inexperienced or blatantly incompetent 'bot had somehow wandered in whilst Ratchet wasn't looking. The Autobot chief medical officer could be a bit _temperamental_ at times… _Any intelligent 'bot stays away from there as much as possible, _he thought, then pondered what that said about _him_, considering the amount of time he spent in there.

The lights finally achieved a steady glow, and several of the parts became suddenly distinguishable from the other… stuff. They were mech parts, suspended on a working rack, and showing signs of recent attention. Like much of what the room contained, they appeared to come from an Earth-model Seeker jet. The paint had recently been stripped away, but smatterings of sealant still clung stubbornly to the metal. Most of the small curled pieces of paint had been swept away, but some of them still remained, like slivery glitter.

With a groan of sudden premonition, Sideswipe saw a hint of red.

_**T21.24: "The Ark" Autobot Underground Headquarters**_

"…The site is a long way from any military aid, so it should be relatively easy to get in and out before any defense arrives…"

Skyfire was on-edge. As nice as is was that the Decepticons hadn't been making their presence known of late, one knew that one would see them eventually; one simply didn't know _when._ (He couldn't honestly say that the waiting was worse than the fighting, but that didn't mean he had to like it.) As a result he was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on his verbal report/debrief.

"…although there is only one drill, so energy yields could be expected to be fairly low…"

Neither his leader, Optimus Prime, not any of the other Autobots gathered seemed to have noticed anything amiss, though possibly it was only because they were under suffering the same agitation, or simply not paying attention.

"…and so that is the oil rig that I would suggest we attack."

"That's a stupid idea!" Declared a forcedly high-pitched voice belonging some mech Skyfire couldn't see. _At least it means somebody was paying attention,_ he supposed; _Maybe._

There were a few moments of relative quiet, in which nobody spoke, but this was eventually broken by a drawn out sigh from Optimus. (As with human sighs, it didn't serve any real practical purpose beyond being a tool for expression; but this didn't stop humans from doing it, so why should it stop giant robots?)

"…Jazz?"

"Uh, yes Prime?"

"You were saying something?"

"Nah, Prime."

"…"

"Well… I just thought that if this little game's gonna get us any insight 'bout what song the Deceptigeeks've been playing, we'd better tune ourselves to the right station, y'know?"

"…"

"Like… Groove to their tune--"

It was at times like this that Optimus envied Megatron his method of keeping his troops in line.

"--Drum to their favorite rhythm; Take our beat from their metronome--"

Prime sighed again. How tempting it was to just raise his gun arm and say 'good idea'…

_**T21.26: Captured Decepticon HQ, Lower Level, Repair Bay**_

Sideswipe stepped back out of the room and into the main area of the repair bay. Sunstreaker wasn't there, so presumably, the red twin was glad to note, his yellow sibling was doing his own share of the work, for once. Even so, the contents of the last room had given him the feeling that he was about to get more work regardless of what Sunny was doing. Dear Primus, 'more work' was just exactly what he _didn't _want.

Some mechanoids had come to the conclusion that Sideswipe was nothing more than a lazy prankster, but this wasn't entirely true. For instance, Sideswipe had been doing a _lot_ of digging since the Autobots had woken after a four million year nap inside a mountain and taken up residence. They had been underground on Cybertron, too, for a while before they had left; not that digging was a skill frequently required on an artificially created factory planetoid made almost entirely of metal.

Ignoring the transmission's ever-present whine in his receptors, Sideswipe viewed the door he was to check next with trepidation. However, knowing that if his brother was finished searching first that he would not hear the end of it for some time, Sideswipe didn't procrastinate for very long.

Air hissed as he broke the door seal. _Slag_. This wasn't what he had hoped for; with the room under a positive pressure there was a good chance that this room was, or had until recently been, in use. Medical areas under cleanroom conditions tended to have someone, or at the least some_thing_, inside. Anything which had been there probably still was, since the Autobots hadn't given the residents much time to pack. Then again, it wasn't improbable that the Decepticons would just leave it running constantly, if they used it frequently, rather than just sealing it up and flushing it all the time.

Stepping inside and re-sealing the door behind him, Sideswipe was pleased to note that the room was sheilded from the outside transmission.

Then he turned around, and what he saw brought the worst of the stories about what went on in the Decepticon Repair Bay back to the fore-front of his mind; though he had been a solidier long enough that it did not have the effect it would have had once, before the war.

"Ho-ly Slaaag."


End file.
